


Berakhah

by Monsterunderkilt



Series: The Manse [40]
Category: Actor RPF, Celebrities - Fandom, RPF - Fandom, Real Person Fanfic - Fandom, Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:15:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28141500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsterunderkilt/pseuds/Monsterunderkilt
Summary: It’s Jon’s turn to coax me out of the bathtub so the holidays can get back on track
Series: The Manse [40]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1209447
Kudos: 1





	Berakhah

Down in the living room this evening, Stephen and Jon are fighting over the TV remote.

“It’s my turn to pick the movie, Stephen.”

“We watched _Yentl_ last night, Jon, so we’re definitely doing something Christmassy tonight.”

Jon crosses his arms over his chest. “Madam picked _Yentl_ not me! I wanted to do _Die Hard._ ”

Stephen rolls his eyes and starts scrolling through the TCM selections on the screen. “Our wife doesn’t want to watch _Die Hard_. Just because a movie is set during Christmastime doesn’t make is a Christmas movie. We’re doing _Meet Me In St. Louis._ ”

“Only one quarter of that movie is set during Christmas!” Jon says, grabbing at Stephen’s hands.

Stephen huffs and holds the remote up as high as he can, waving it away from Jon’s reach. “I don’t care. It makes Caity cry every time and I need the chance to get in some comforting cuddle time with her.”

Jon tackles Stephen onto the sofa. “She’ll cuddle with you, crying or no!”

Sir enters the living room. “Gentleman, your kind attention, please!” he calls out with his Director voice.

Jon and Stephen pause mid-tickle fight and stare at him.

Ken takes a deep breath and points upstairs. “She’s in the bathtub again.”

Stephen shrugs and Jon scrunches his face up as they respond as one. “So?”

Ken sighs. “She’s sitting in there, watching some Terrence Malick movie on her iPad,” he says gravely.

“Which one?” Jon asks.

“Does it matter which one? Nobody should be watching Terrance Malick movies on a sad, tiny screen. Something’s broken her spirit.”

“I would’ve been happy to let her pick the movie again tonight if it meant that much to her,” Stephen says.

Ken hangs his head. “It’s not just that. Come on, we need to coax her out. I’m not as experienced at making her laugh as you two.”

Jon and Stephen wrestle a bit, but Jon jumps up first and brushes past Ken on his way into the foyer. “I got this!” he yells as he scampers up the stairs.

I am, in fact, curled up in a fetal position in the tub, with my AirPods on, listening to more than watching _Days of Heaven_. Jon slowly enters the bathroom and takes a seat on the tile floor nearby. He taps his fingernails on the edge of the tub, getting my attention. I peek over the edge and see his puppy-dog eyes blink at me.

“Bubbeleh,” he whispers. “We need your help.”

I shake my head. “I had a very stressful day at work, pupik. Take care of yourselves for once.”

Jon sighs and fishes a dreidel out of his pocket. He holds it up for me to see. “I’ll spin you over menorah lighting duties. Whoever gets _shin_ has to get their toochis back downstairs and do the blessing over the candles.”

I roll my eyes and nod my head and silent agreement. He knows how much I love whenever he spins my dreidel.

Jon smiles, then spins it on the floor in front of him. We both watch as it twirls and twirls until it loses its momentum and finally clatters to one side.

“ _Nun_!” Jon says. “Your turn, Madam.”

I reach my arm over the edge of the tub and take the dreidel, then give it a pathetic half-hearted spin. It lands on _gimmel_. “Ah-hah! Now you owe me all the gelt.”

He snaps his fingers and curses. “If I give you a kiss, will that count?”

I touch my finger to my cheek.

Jon grabs the edge of the tub to lift himself up toward me, goes for my cheek, but then steals a kiss on my lips. He smiles and winks at me, and that’s when two tears suddenly squirt from the corners of my eyes. I blubber a bit, just glad that he’s given me this catalyst for a cry. His expression falls immediately and he climbs into the tub with me, hugging me tightly. “Bubbe, what’s going on? Why aren’t you forcing us to watch this beautiful film on the big screen right now? I mean, young Richard Gere... he’s almost as handsome as me.”

“I’m tired, Jon,” I weep into his shoulder. “I just want a mental health month off and lots of chocolate and old movies and Stephen’s _Lord of the Rings_ jokes and Ken’s audio commentaries and your wonderful face. All at once. I miss the old days. I miss your _Daily/Report_ tosses and I hate that I have to wait another year for Dune and I miss airports and malls and cocktail bars and going out every Wednesday for beer with my dad.”

Jon strokes my back and rubs my bare arm warm as he rests his head against mine. “One thing at a time, bubbe... we’re working on some of that stuff. We can do chocolate and movies every night, you know. The rest will come in time, or you can spend your entire Christmas break revisiting them while sipping eggnog and rum. I promise.”

Just then, Sir and Stephen peek around the corner of the bathroom doorway, eyes wide. Jon signals to them, pointing at his wristwatch and holding up an “OK” sign with his fingers. He takes one of my hands and kisses my knuckles. “Madam, sunset is upon us. The _berakhah_ won’t recite itself.”

I sniffle and look up into his grey eyes. “Did Barack Obama ever recite a _berakhah_?”

“I’m willing to guess he has at some point. Old Reb Barry.”

“I miss him too.”

“So do I.”

I take a deep breath and shut my iPad, then take my AirPods out. I hug Jon and whisper into his ear, “Are they watching us right now?”

Jon nods. “Hmm-mmm.”

I take his head between my hands and proceed to give him a ferocious kiss, and just as we begin sliding down the edge of the tub, I catch a sidelong glance at the jealous faces spying on us. Lying flat on his back from my loving attack, Jon begins to giggle and so do I. I even let out a sudden snort.Then we hear the sound of clapping echo across the bathroom.

“Mission accomplished!” Stephen says.

“Well done, well done, Jon,” Sir adds.

“Now let’s watch some Judy Garland shit already!” Stephen declares. “ _Clang clang clang went the trolley!”_

“ _Ding ding ding went the bell!_ ” Jon says, still laughing.

Sir even joins in. “ _Zing zing zing went my heartstrings, from the moment I saw her, I fell!_ ”

I blush at being witness to Sir’s musical talent. “You really should sing more, Kenny. It’s lovely to hear.”

“I’ll teach him everything I know,” Stephen says.

With that, Jon and I climb out of the tub and all four of us head down to the kitchen to make some popcorn before we settle in for a much-needed night of musical fun.


End file.
